


Flesh and Flames

by ellawho



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: A Series Of Unfortunate Events Season 3 Spoilers, ASOUE - Freeform, Angst, Gen, Spoiler Alert - Freeform, Spoilers, angsty, how Esmé died in the Penultimate Peril according to my own angsty viewpoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellawho/pseuds/ellawho
Summary: A brief one shot about how I thought Esmé died in The Penultimate Peril, meeting the ghosts of her past and old fears who didn't seem to leave her alone, not even while facing her own grave.





	Flesh and Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is the first OS that I try to upload in the ASOUE fandom, so be kind. Every constructive criticism will be highly appreciated, alongside nice comments! Enjoy the angst. Sigh.

#  Flesh and Flames 

_There have been so many secrets I’ve tried to hold back, years of silence, of quiet sufferings, prejudices over prejudices preceding my reputation. I’ve been eyed as incapable, stupid, superficial until I’ve absorbed the power of the menaces and words thrown at me and became what people portayed me as. That’s the worst part. Not having been able to pursue my only goal in life: taking what’s mine, once and for all.  
I’ve had a few moments of fleeting glory, here and there, but I never really gave much importance to them. What I really, really craved was the item which represented my essence, my life before this all. The same item which led me to the grave. _

_I’ve always hated heat, but for the only reason it was in, I forced myself to enjoy it. During summertime I would go out and show off my beautiful silhouette on the streets, making sure people would stare at me. I know I was a hell of a catch. And still… I kept hating it. I hated the fact that I came back home sweating like a horse after a race, I hated to wear short clothes because I found long dresses and pinstriped suits way more fashionable. But I ignored it all. I kept walking half naked because it was the right thing to do. I was out there seeking people’s acceptance and approvation. I had to be the first to follow the social conventions. Even though it was highly uncomfortable. I was in a position where the image was everything and the effects that my influence had on people were more important that my own self. And look where I am now._

_It’s definitely way too hot in here. Anyone got a refrigerator I could step into?! Anyone there, actually? I’m melting. Wait – I will figuratively –_ and she meant literally – _melt here._

_Oh dear. OLAF?! No. Olaf isn’t coming. You’ll have to save your own ass. Carmelita keeps screaming. She’s irritating, I wish the flames would engulf her already. Do I really want that? No.  
What if I kicked her out of the window? No, it’s too dangerous. She would die anyway. And what if- _

_“Carmelita, this way!”_

A beam had fallen on the staircase, covering the flames for a little but sufficient path. She surprisingly pushed the little orphan towards the beam and saved her life. She ran off so easily, without even thanking her.

_What if I remove my shoes? It will be easier for me. Oh- oh dear._

The flames ate the beam. There wasn’t any way out. She was trapped. 

_“Fires are in. . .”_

_They really were, after all. I couldn’t ask for a better way to die, could I?_

_Carmelita will come back eventually, I just have to wait. Ten seconds…twenty…fifty…one minute. The fire is close enough it could touch the tip of my toe._

_“I’ve always hated heat.”_

_And I’ve always hated fashion. I’ve always hated my house, I hate the fact that I couldn’t stand my husband, I have always hated count Olaf and the way he made me suffer, I’ve always hated what’s in and what’s out, I’ve hated the people who claimed to be my friends and then betrayed me. I’ve always hated being and feeling alone. But you really figure it all out when it’s too late._

The fire was ready to approach her flesh, touch her skin, deprive her soul of her body. It was ready to steal Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor’s identity and turn it into ashes. Red, orange and yellow her eyes burned. Was she crying? Her tears burning down her hot cheeks. It hurt. 

That’s the story of how the city’s sixth most important financial advisor died. And that’s how the story goes. She died alone, in a deserted laundry of a five starred hotel on a thursday, after having saved a life and after having been abandoned. 

That’s how Esmé Gigi Geniveve Squalor perished, empty, for her essence was still out of reach, far away from her dark and inert body.


End file.
